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grandchildren

You know what makes me more than a little crazy? (Like I really need something outside myself to pitch me into the crazy zone!) The way Grand parents are visually portrayed. Case in point. I refer you to the image above. I spend time searching for and designing graphics for my posts. Since I write extensively about Baby Boomer women, issues related to grand parenting frequently arise. Foraging for images to complement my blog posts inevitably brings up pictures like the ones above or even these…

Little old ladies with gray hair and canes. Now, I don’t know about you, but I, like many of my friends, color my hair, don’t use canes, and are active- walking, biking, golfing, etc. So the fact Google, etc. cannot come up with better images to represent us, makes me a annoyed.

Ok, I’m off my soap box and on to the point on the story….

Over the holidays I was included in a text thread initiated by my friend Grace and her cadre of grandmother friends. Her one year old great niece was visiting for Christmas and Grace needed to equip her home with kids stuff. Here is pretty much how this exchange went down:

Jackie- I have a high chair

Liz: I have an umbrella stroller

Cynthia: I have a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe riding car

Liz: I have a portable crib

Betsy: I have a pack and play

Ann: I have lots of toys

Nancy: I have books

We have amassed these trinkets for tots from rummage sales, Costco purchases, and inheritances from grand-friends whose own tots are now teens. Baby Boomer women, being the basic parental over achievers that we are, want to ensure our nests are ready and accommodating for those hard earned grandbabies.

Much like the ride and home sharing economies, our band of Boomer grandmothers participate in our own version of a sharing economy. We even share our “eye rolling” tales about over anxious daughters and daughters-in-law who only allow organic, free range, grass fed, all natural food to pass over the lips of our princes and princesses.

I would not trade my grandmother role for all the money in the world (And trust me I would have a lot more if parenting and grandparenting had not graced my life). But it is fun to be a member of this Grandmother network, sharing our resources and our experiences. I just wish marketers would make us look better!

I love creativity. I think it is fun turning every day activities or roles on their sides and thinking about them differently, at least on occasion. Now, one job many people my age would not consider a “task” or “job” would be grand parenting.

Two of my grandchildren live “away” as they say in Maine. The oldest of our grandchildren, Austin, lives just 27 miles away versus eleven hundred miles away in Chicago. While it’s obviously more difficult seeing the Chicago clan, somehow even driving 45 minutes in traffic has resulted in not enough face time. (Speaking of Face Time! How did grandparents of yesteryear handle not being able to see those cherubic cheeks multiple times a week? Face Time is the greatest grandparent invention ever created!)

So, I proposed to my husband that we conduct a campaign. After all, campaigns are our jam (business). We help candidates develop communications strategies to win votes. Why can’t we employ some of those same skills to communicate with people we really love? So…every couple of weeks, we are going to send mail to Austin and Maya.

Care Packages for Grandchildren

Who doesn’t love receiving interesting, engaging mail? I know these little ones will delight in receiving packages and notes in their mailboxes.

What to Consider Including in Your Care Package

fun stamps- Thomas the Train, The Cat In the Hat, or characters from Frozen.

other items that we find and can share with the grandchildren along with a story of how we discovered them and why we included them in the package.

Yes, I admit it, just like trying to win the hearts and minds of voters, I am on a mission to win the hearts and minds of my little ones. Don’t worry I’m not letting the Russians or anyone else get in the way of this election.

I’m anxious right now. It’s Thursday October 6 @ 12:30 and I’m on a plan destined for Chicago and the awaiting arms of my children and an 18 month old granddaughter. I feel almost like a refugee fleeing the approach of Hurricane Mathew as it takes aim for the east coast of my state. Meteorologists are saying Florida hasn’t seen the likes of a storm of this magnitude since Hurricane Andrew in 19. Even the three 2004 hurricanes hitting Central Florida did not look this ominous.

But I can’t help but feel like a deserter. I’m leaving behind my husband, dogs, brothers, friends, and colleagues to protect their persons and properties. Not that I seriously think I’m all that essential to their wellbeing, but I could stand in solidarity and share in the camaraderie.

My trip has been planned for a while; it has been months since I have enveloped Maya in hugs and kisses. She is learning an average of five new words a day: she is obsessed with coloring and is blossoming into an artist (something I value considerably) before other people’s, not mine, eyes; she is developing her own fashion taste and a sense of humor. I don’t want to miss these milestones just because I live 700 miles away.

That is why I’m abandoning ship. Please join with me in praying for the safety and protection of loved ones in harm’s way.

The title of my blog is Be Brave. Lose the Beige. While my blog is not just about color (although most men who hear the title of my blog think it’s about make-up or fashion), I am pretty crazy about colors…all colors, the more the better. So it may not come as a surprise that I love Fiesta Ware. Fiesta Ware is a line of dinnerware in a rainbow of colors, which flooded into homes during the Great Depression. In 1936, William Wells thought America’s spirits needed a boost. He went to his designers and said, “This is what’s going to be good for the Depression: People need to brighten up their table, people need something to be happy about.” And that is how Fiesta got started. (A wonderful episode of CBS Sunday Morning detailed the history of this company. Click here to see the episode.)

I stumbled upon a set of authentic Fiesta Ware at a recent yard sale. I was thrilled, and amassed a collection of plates, bowls, and mugs in vibrant saturated multi-colors.

garage sale fiesta ware

There was such abundance I bought cups and saucers for my daughter, mugs and bowls for my son and his wife. It was s much fun. The most fun of all, however, occurred when my granddaughter and I unwrapped our colorful booty. “Blue”, “yellow”, “green” I would say as she studied each new find. I was struck thinking how not only is Fiesta Ware a highly useful cupboard item but an excellent way to introduce our one-year-old to colors. Of course teaching my granddaughter about color is a role I gladly take on. I’m just happy Fiesta Ware is still around to help with the tutorial.

I spent seven February days in Chicago caring for my newly born granddaughter. Did I mention the February in Chicago part? The -14 degrees part? It was a fabulous week filled with so much love and delight. Such a point of connection for my son and me.

My daughter flew in as well. Scrambling eggs one morning, accompanied by David’s music playlist, I beheld my daughter cooing with baby Maya as her brother and sister-in-law perused family baby photos of yesteryear. This is why we have kids– for these moments of utter contentment and completeness.

Now, did you hear the “moments” part of the above sentence? Let’s be honest, to achieve those moments requires hours of energy expenditure, a/k/a work. Now, much of that work is joyful work. Feeling useful is so satisfying and contributes to one’s sense of well-being and happiness. Ok, all the benefits of hard work and self sacrifice aside, the work part is exhausting. I was assigned the early morning baby caring shift. That meant arising at 5:30 and trudging two blocks in the snow and -14 degree weather to fulfill my motherly/grandmotherly duties. Once in the warmth of the apartment, heaven awaited in the form of my baby girl. That intoxicating baby fragrance; the feel of her head tucked beneath my chin; to know I’ve not lost the ability to soothe a baby back to sleep. Priceless moments.

But there was also

taking the dog out for exercise and elimination;

climbing basement stairs on wounded knee with mounds of laundry;

grocery shopping (organic only);

car pooling;

Starbuck’s drive-throughs;

even hosting an Oscar night party.

Did I mention I’m 61?

I had coffee recently with a Lady Boomer friend. Her 92 year old father had recently passed away. While his passing was not a surprise given his age, the significance of the loss was profound. But she has not really been afforded the opportunity to sit with her grief. She is being pulled by so many sources and obligations. Her adult children and even her husband are making a lot of demands on her time and emotional resources. All these demands leave little space and stamina for one’s own needs and wants.

Even, or especially, being in our 60s, we still have dreams we want to pursue. I know when I returned from Chicago, I had little to no physical and psychic energy left for my own creative aspirations. I gave my friend a prescription, one I so hope I follow. Carve out 2-4 hours in the coming week for yourself. Seems simple, right? Not so much. You have to commit to the promise and build in accountability. Use the time to…

(1) meditate, (2) write in a journal, (3) take a walk or a bike ride, (4) wander through a museum or gallery, whatever you do, do it alone. You need to carve out time to hear your own thoughts and needs. Who knows, by creating this space, you might actually implement some of the things you hear from yourself.

I traveled to Chicago to be with my son and daughter-in-law to await the birth of their first child. Ok, so maybe I was a little over anxious…like I was afraid if Katie went into labor it would take me too long to get a flight from Orlando to Chicago to be there in time for Maya’s arrival. I did get that part right. A few contractions and five pushes later, that baby was out cocooning with her Mom and Dad. But…prior to her red carpet entrance, there was the waiting. I was 8 days early. I’m never early for anything. I took up residence at a Best Western in Evanston, Illinois. Every day I would go to the front desk saying, “I think I need one more day”. The front desk clerks and breakfast room staff became fast friends, exclaiming, “That baby’s not here yet?! All in God’s time, honey.”

God’s time-frame gave me an unexpected gift…time with my son and daughter-in-law. David’s career obligations, geographical distance, and impending fatherhood, hasn’t left him extra time for connecting with his Mom. We are alike in our love of play. And play we were able to do this week of waiting for Maya. A soft, powdery snow descended on Chicago the day of my arrival. Living in Florida all my life, this climate change was novel for me. We spent hours hiking (or really crunching) on snow-covered trails; we walked on Lake Michigan, the ice was so compact. (“See David, I always said you walked on water”, I teased my son.)

Not accustomed to sitting still, this week permitted me to do just that. My daughter-in-law, nestled into her sofa, knitted her way through countless mini-contractions as we watched old movies and reality television shows.

Maya (named that after a strong female character in one of the movies we watched) arrived on January 20th at 12:30 in the afternoon much to the delight of multiple grandparents and many friends. I wasn’t able to stay much longer after her birth. I anticipate many visits in the years to come. But I’m profoundly grateful God’s time-frame allowed me to spend this precious time with my kids as they perched on the precipice of parenthood, a time that will never be again.

Warmed by her newly knitted blanketBaby Maya and MomSnow time with my son